If My Heart Should Somehow Stop
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: 4x03 AU Aftermath/ - They both could have died today. - / Spencer R. & Emily P.


**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**AN: 4x03 AU Aftermath**

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**If My Heart Should Somehow Stop**

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"Me. It's me."

The words have left her mouth before he has the chance to stop her.

And he wants to do something, wants to scream and shout that she's lying, that he's the FBI agent, not her. But he's frozen to the spot.

He watches Cyrus grab her by her hair and drag her away, sits still as her dark eyes find his. Pleading to stay quiet. To allow her to take his place.

And even though he hates himself for doing it, he keeps his mouth shut.

He still stares at the empty place beside him when he hears glass shatter in the distance. Followed by muffled cries and screams.

_I'm so sorry, Emily. I'm so sorry._

He closes his eyes in defeat and prays.

(Please let her get through this.)

.

When he spots her in the church, covered in blood and bruises, he feels like throwing up.

_This is his fault._

"It's not as bad as it looks," she answers, offers him an almost smile to assure him that she's fine.

_It's ridiculous._

"Emily, I'm so sorry," is all he manages to get over his lips. His hands shoved down in his pants pockets. Promises himself that he'll get her out of this alive even if it's the last thing he does.

(He briefly wonders if she plans to do the same.)

.

"I need you to listen to me," Emily tells him and takes his hand into her own. "What Cyrus did to me wasn't your fault. It was my decision and I would do it again. Do you hear me?"

He nods. Slowly. Gives her a weak smile and lets his gaze drop back down to his book.

Of course it had been his fault.

_How can she even say something like this?_

Because she's Emily Prentiss, a_ freaking martyr._

He stares down at the page until the letters start to blur.

(He could have lost her today.)

.

When they land in Quantico, he watches her leave the jet on wobbly legs. Pain written all over her pale face.

And he wishes he didn't feel so useless, wishes he could do something. But he knows she wouldn't let him anyway.

So he just watches her disappear in the direction of her car.

Unable to fight the sadness any longer.

(She could have died.)

.

It's past midnight when she shows up in front of his apartment.

Her face still pale, still bruised. Her raven hair falling in her face in an attempt to hide the worst. Her dark eyes tired and unfocused.

He steps back, lets her in. Watches her unsteady movements. Wonders how many painkillers she took. Hopes she didn't drive here.

For a long time they just stand in the middle of his apartment, listening to the rain drumming against the windowsill.

And he thinks that he never wanted to hold someone as badly as he wants to hold her now.

(He could have died too.)

.

He watches her sit down on his couch, watches her push a strand of her hair out of her face. Revealing yet another cut on her skin.

And he hates to see her like that. Hates the way it makes him feel.

Wishes he'd stopped her.

She stares down at the floor and he watches as the first tears tumble down her pale cheeks. Dropping to the old wooden floorboards of his living room.

And he wonders if she'd ever cried in front of anyone before. Wonders if it's just because of some medication running through her system, making her even more emotional than she'd already been.

He tries to think of the right thing to say, but comes up with nothing. He makes his way towards her, sits down beside her and takes her hand into his own before he can stop himself from doing so.

For a moment he's afraid she might pull away from him, but to his surprise she doesn't.

(They both could have died today.)

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She ends up sleeping peacefully in his arms. Her cheek against his chest, her warm body curled up against his side.

He holds her close, while he pulls a blanket from the armrest to tuck her in.

Wonders if she's going to freak out first thing in the morning, trying to pretend this never happened. Trying to blame it on the pills.

He closes his eyes, while he listens to her breathing. Inhales the scent of her shampoo.

_Violets,_ he thinks. _Like a field full of flowers in the middle of spring._

He can't help but smile.

(He'd never been more happy to be alive.)

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**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**AN: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me! And of course a big thank you goes to the amazing clairebare for beta reading!**


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